


The Great Outdoors

by Elfbert



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John, Lestrade, a picnic, a motorbike, some lube and the countryside...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Outdoors

Sherlock twisted his head, looked Lestrade up and down, sighed so hard his entire body visibly sagged, and then proceeded to ignore him.

"Morning, Sherlock. Beautiful day," Lestrade said, undeterred.

Sherlock made a pained noise. Obviously there was nothing more mundane than small talk about the weather.

Lestrade was saved from the silence by John running down the stairs, dressed in his biking gear, helmet under his arm.

"Hey gorgeous," Lestrade grinned. He leant in for a kiss.

Sherlock sounded like he gave up the will to live on the sofa.

"Come on," John grabbed Lestrade's arm and led him down the last flight of stairs to the front door. "He's been a snit since Mycroft came around earlier. Ignore him, it's the best way."

Lestrade gladly took John's advice, heading out into the glorious sunshine, admiring John's arse, neatly encased in some armoured jeans.

"So where are we going then?" John asked, then pointed to the bike, and the large tank bag which sat upon it. "And what's that?"

"Er, surprise, and…surprise," Lestrade answered, grinning.

John just rolled his eyes and tugged his helmet on, as Lestrade swung his leg over the bike, revved it up, and put his own helmet back on.

John settled behind him, groin tight against Lestrade's arse, thighs squeezing around him, and slid his hands over Lestrade's jacket, settling them over his hips.

"Ready?" Lestrade said into the intercom system.

"Yeah, go for it," John answered, and tightened his grip slightly, as he felt the bike dip slightly and roll forward into the traffic.

As they sped through London John tried to relax – he loved the bike, and loved the chance to spend time with Lestrade – but he hated weaving through the traffic of London. Luckily it wasn't long before they were leaving the city behind and they were chatting about their surroundings as they sped through the countryside.

John knew they were heading roughly South, but beyond that he neither knew nor cared where they were going.

He was, however, slightly surprised when Lestrade slowed on a tiny country lane, then turned off, bumping over a rutted track, feet off the pegs, almost skimming the ground as they crept along.

John raised the visor on his helmet, looking around at the rolling fields, small wooded areas and what looked like a large lake at the bottom of the hill.

"Where are we?" he asked.

The laugh that came back made him smile. Lestrade didn't relax often enough, and John loved him when he was being silly, indulging in the playful side of his personality that wasn't allowed to show when investigating brutal murders.

"We're nowhere," Lestrade replied.

"Right. Helpful, thanks," John said, dryly.

"I mean it – we're nowhere, and that's entirely the point. We're miles from anywhere. This track is for the forestry guys who tend the woods around here. There's no reason for anyone else to be anywhere near here. I wanted some peace and quiet." they came to the end of the track, and Lestrade stopped the bike on the hard-baked mud.

John grinned to himself, and when Lestrade patted his thigh – their sign that it was okay for John to dismount - he clambered off the bike and stretched, shedding his helmet and jacket, pleased to be rid of them in the heat of the day.

Lestrade settled the bike onto its stand and began pulling off his own gear, then grabbed the bag from the tank.

"Come on, there's a spot down here, by the water," Lestrade led the way, his boots flapping around his calves where he'd undone the straps.

 

The area was gently sloped, in a small glade of willows, which led down to the water's edge. The pond itself was obviously natural, a pool in the rocks, essentially, opening out into a much larger body of water.

"Was just this bit, once – there's a spring," Lestrade gestured. "The reservoir was built later, for the village down the hill."

John nodded, and then smiled when Lestrade unzipped the bag and pulled out a couple of cool-packs, and a plastic box, followed by two bottles of cider – a brand they both liked – and more cool packs. They were followed by a picnic rug, which he spread out on the ground, having thrown a few twigs and stones out of the way first.

"Sit," Lestrade gestured, as he packed the other items back into the bag. "You hot?" he asked.

John nodded, plucking the material of his shirt from his sweaty skin.

"Want a swim, then?"

John stared at him. "Seriously?"

"It's fine – honestly. And we'll dry off quickly in this heat."

The smile on Lestrade's face – coupled with his wide brown eyes – quickly destroyed any sort of argument John might have had on the subject.

"Right, yes, than, I suppose. I mean, it's safe?"

"Course." Lestrade was already pulling his boots off.

John watched for a second, as Lestrade's boots were discarded and he started on his shirt, before smiling and removing his own gear.

Lestrade was soon naked apart from his boxers – annoyingly tanned, John noticed – and heading for the water. He waded out a short distance and then sank down, ducking his head under briefly before reappearing, dripping wet, hair in spikes.

John quickly dropped his own jeans and shirt onto the pile and walked down the slope, the ground warm under his feet.

 

Lestrade waited until he was standing on the rocks at the water's edge.

"Warn you, though," he said, just as he watched John step forward. "It's…"

His words were drowned out by John's string of swear words.

"Cold," he shouted over them. "Spring, remember."

"Bastard!" John lunged for him, and they ended up splashing each other, finally ending up hugging, which quickly led to kissing.

"Mmmm," Lestrade moaned, his hand sliding inside John's shorts, grabbing a handful of arse and pulling John tight against him.

Despite the cold water he could feel blood definitely heading southwards.

John's hand sliding between them showed he'd noticed too, and Lestrade grinned as they kissed.

"You," John squeezed the growing bulge. "Are a sneaky bastard. How long have you been planning this?"

Lestrade laughed. "Just thought it would be nice. To be alone, in the sunshine. Away from…everything. Everyone."

"It is. Very."

"Mmm." Lestrade pushed John backwards, until his back was against a warm rock, the rest of him still in the chill water.

"Still a sneaky bastard, though," John said. "And I'm getting cold now. Think you should find a way to warm me up again."

"I can think of a few." Lestrade pushed himself away from John, ducking back under the water and swimming away, John just able to make out his pale form under the sparkling ripples.

He waded toward the rocky slope, pausing to duck under the water himself, scrubbing the sweat from his face and shivering as the droplets ran over his scalp. Then he jumped as hands slid over his buttocks, one slipping between his legs and giving him a squeeze, and then, making him yelp, teeth nipping his flesh. He turned around, grabbing Lestrade and half succeeding in dragging him upwards, but unable to keep his footing and ending with them both back under the water, a tangle of limbs.

They finally got to the edge, laughing and splashing and leaving trails of wet footprints as they headed for the rug.

"This is perfect," John sighed as he stretched out on the rug, the warm breeze kissing his skin.

"Mmmm, you are," Lestrade dropped to his hands and knees and began crawling up his body, water dripping from his hair as he lowered his head to drop kisses on John's chilled skin. His lips traced lines from his ankles to knees, then up the inside of each thigh. John tucked one arm under his head and looked down just in time to watch Lestrade begin mouthing his balls through the wet, clinging material of his boxers.

"Oh, God," he murmured, eyes fluttering closed as Lestrade's mouth was hot, through the thin fabric. Then he groaned as Lestrade tugged on the waistband, exposing him, and sucked his wet, half-hard cock into the heat of his mouth. "Fuck," John breathed, his hand finding Lestrade's hair and gently encouraging him.

 

Lestrade might be the one who organised dinners out, ridiculous trips to the country, and brought stupid gifts and flowers, but in the bedroom he was happy to have John take most of the control. Encouraged it, in fact. And at first, had done so without John really noticing. Exactly as he was now. Seeming to take the initiative, but actually waiting for and encouraging John to guide him.

"Come here," John said, looking down his body, tugging gently on Lestrade's hair. He couldn't help but give a last thrust of his hips as Lestrade looked up at him, dark eyes wide, mouth full of cock, looking completely debauched. But then he slid his hand around the back of Lestrade's neck as Lestrade crawled up over his body, pulling him down into a kiss.

"You bought lube?" John asked.

Lestrade nodded, silently, water sparkling as the drips slid over his body.

"Good. Lie there," he gestured to the empty half of the blanket.

Lestrade obeyed, a quick glance at John as he settled on his front, receiving a nod that the position was acceptable.

John peered into the bag and spotted the lube, then grinned, sandwiching it between two ice packs and turning his attentions back to Lestrade. He began by squeezing Lestrade's buttocks, digging his fingers in to soft flesh, bending down to kiss each one, and then deciding the wet cotton was getting in the way.

"Lift," he said, and pulled the waistband, dragging the fabric down Lestrade's thighs and finally pulling it off over his feet. He slid his hands down Lestrade's back, long strokes, luxuriating in the feel of the cool, wet skin, allowing his hands to dip lower with each pass, until he was gently pulling Lestrade's thighs apart a little more each time his hands reached that far down.

Lestrade had his head pillowed on his arms, eyes closed, and smiled to himself as he felt John's fingers edge ever closer to his crack, fingertips skimming over sensitive flesh, the touch full of promise, allowing the anticipation of what was to come simmer and build.

Then one hand left him, leaving the other to trace an excruciatingly gentle line between his balls and his arse. He shivered, the touch was so light, and the hand immediately disappeared, only to plant a stinging slap on his bum.  
"No moving," John commanded.

Lestrade huffed a laugh into the crook of his arm, and felt another smack.

"No laughing, either."

He bit his arm as the heat of the blows spread over his skin. Then John's lips pressed against the skin, a slight sting of stubble and soft lips and tongue.

Lestrade had just about relaxed, when two fingers covered in freezing cold lube slid around his hole.

"Fuuu!" He lifted his head, arching his back, as if he could escape the touch.

"I said no moving!" John's free hand came down sharply, the sound scaring birds nearby.

Lestrade bit back a groan as the two fingers teased him, then, finally, slid inside, spreading the lube around.

He fought not to move, pressing his groin down into the soft blanket, resting his forehead on his arms, breathing steadily to keep himself in control as John worked his fingers in further adding more freezing cold lube. His free hand stroked soothingly over Lestrade's back.

"Christ, you're gorgeous," John said. "Spread in front of me, like this. I could do anything – you'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?"

Lestrade groaned in agreement, tilting his hips slightly, spreading his legs a little further. His movements were rewarded with another dollop of freezing cold lube, making his cock twitch and his arse clench.

"Fuck, you're tight. I'm going to enjoy this so much." John shifted, kneeling up, pushing the front of his own boxers down. He removed his fingers from Lestrade's hot body and wiped the excess lube on his cock. Then he grinned.

"On your knees," he ordered.

Lestrade obeyed, pushing himself up onto all fours.

"Just your knees," John said, and watched as Lestrade obediently dropped his chest and face back to the ground, arms still around his head, cushioning it.

John picked up the lube and gave it a decent squeeze, depositing a good amount into Lestrade's still slightly-stretched hole, watching as the muscle clamped around nothing at the shock of the cool gel, imagining his cock was already buried in Lestrade's arse.

"Bastard," Lestrade mumbled, head still buried in his arms.

"Didn't think I wanted that cold stuff all over me, did you?" John asked. "You warm it up for me."

Lestrade smiled to himself, hearing John move behind him, then tensed slightly as he felt John's cock slide up and down his crack, teasing, pressing against his hole, then sliding away.

"John," he groaned, the word muffled.

"Something you want?" John asked, innocently.

"You, just…" Lestrade was cut off as John pushed forward, sliding into him, stretching him.

"Mmmm," John gripped Lestrade's hips hard, sliding into the hot, tight channel. "Christ but you're tight," he said softly, tipping his head back, revelling in the feel of the sun on his face and his lover around his cock.

Lestrade suppressed a shudder, but couldn't help the clench of his sphincter, dragging a low growl from John.

His punishment was a pause. A long moment when he was desperate to move, to shove backwards, to do anything that wasn't the enforced stillness. It felt too much, too full, when he wasn't distracted by the smooth slide of flesh, or the jolt of pleasure as John's cock dragged over his prostate.

"Behave," John ordered, bringing his open palm down on Lestrade's arse.

Lestrade bit the skin of his arm.

After the long, agonising, wait, John finally moved again, slow thrusts, pulling almost all the way out of Lestrade's body, then sliding smoothly back in. He leant forward slightly, his palm sliding down Lestrade's back until it rested between his shoulder blades. He leant forward, pinning Lestrade down, feeling the rise and fall of each breath, timing his thrusts to he was embedded deep in Lestrade's body every time his lungs were filled. Snapping his hips slightly, pushing in those extra few millimetres, biding his time.

"Jesus, John," Lestrade panted, trying to push backwards but held, tight.

"Mmm?" John didn't change the pace, but he dropped his head forward, watching as his thick cock slid easily into Lestrade's body.

"Fuck me," Lestrade moaned, the words almost inaudible. "Please, fucking harder, more."

John glanced to the side and saw Lestrade's jeans, discarded in a bundle. He kept up a steady, slow, rhythm of shallow thrusts as he reached for them, tugging the belt free from the denim.

"Hands," he ordered, wishing he wasn't as breathless.

"Wha'?" Lestrade twisted, trying to see behind him.

"Give me your hands," John ordered, his tone leaving no room for disagreement.

Lestrade wriggled, shifting to take the weight of his body on his cheek and shoulders, reaching blindly out behind himself, hands in loose fists.

John slid the leather belt around Lestrade's wrists a couple of times, then pulled the end through the buckle, forming an effective restraint. He leant back slightly, his hand slipping between Lestrade's wrists, taking hold of the belt, pulling backwards, hard.

Lestrade grunted, his weight lifted from his shoulders, his body forced backwards, impaled on John's hard cock. His muscles tensed and Jon's breath caught in his throat at the sudden tightening of Lestrade's arse.

He shifted his grip, pulling Lestrade backwards hard against each thrust of his hips, smiling at the grunts of pleasure forced from Lestrade's body.

"Yeah, I'll fucking give you harder," he panted, pausing when he was deep inside Lestrade, balls tight against Lestrade's body. He gave the smallest of wiggles, relishing the sound of Lestrade's breath catching in his throat.

Then he slowly, carefully, pulled out, keeping the tension on Lestrade's bonds, holding him up.

He watched as his cock slid from Lestrade's hole with a final pop, bouncing free. Lestrade was wide open, muscle flexing slightly as if searching for him. He admired the sight for a moment before tilting his hips and pushing back in, all the way, watching his flesh disappear and hearing the corresponding moan of pleasure from Lestrade.

He loved this, loved how they fitted together so perfectly - how Lestrade's body welcomed him.

Sometimes he fantasised, when they were apart, about Lestrade like this. His, anytime, ready and willing for him to sink into whenever he pleased.

He repeated the action, a beat between leaving Lestrade empty and filling him up once more - completely, totally.

Each time Lestrade pushed back against him, his spine straightening, bracing his body for the hard thrust.

Then, finally, he pulled out and dribbled the cold lube over himself, his own breath catching at the sensation of freezing gel sliding over his hot, hard erection. Satisfied he was definitely slick enough he slid back in, shutting his eyes and breathing hard through his nose as Lestrade clamped tight around him at the sudden sensation of cold.

Once he was back in control of himself he leant forward, releasing Lestrade's arms from his grip, but leaving them bound. He placed one palm on the rug beside Lestrade's head, supporting some of his weight, and wrapped the other around Lestrade's shoulder, holding him tight, pulling him back against each surge of his hips. Then thrust, hard, his body weight behind each thrust, his hips snapping hard at the end of each push, feeling the angle change, the pleasure roll around the tip of his cock.

Again and again, faster, harder, his mouth hanging open as he panted, and he could see Lestrade's eyes were closed, squeezed tight, and feel as his arse clenched and released, keeping time, milking him, squeezing him harder than he could believe.

"Fuck, fuck," he breathed, finally tipping his head back, focussing every bit of his mind on the feeling growing low in his bollocks, building, spreading, until he was no longer in control. He was a passenger his orgasm ripping through him and all his body focussed on shoving his cock as hard and deep into Lestrade as he could.

He could hear Lestrade panting beneath him, slight moans carried on his breath, and he knew Lestrade was close.

Releasing Lestrade's shoulder he pushed himself back upright, muscles heavy and slow. He gripped Lestrade's hip, reaching around, hand finding Lestrade's cock – as hard as iron, and twitching as John's fingers brushed against it, before closing it in a fist.

"Come on, let it go," John said, stroking hard, his own erection softening, but still hard enough to rock against Lestrade, a slight slip in and out, a constant pressure and fullness for Lestrade to enjoy. He slid his hand back to the thick leather of the belt, pulling Lestrade tight back onto him, giving him everything he had left.

Lestrade let out a choked moan as he came, and John closed his eyes, biting his lip as his sensitive cock was squeezed, hard, by Lestrade's contracting muscles.

"Fuck," Lestrade panted.

John slowed his hand movements, spreading the slick release over Lestrade, squeezing every last shuddering spasm from Lestrade, then, finally, tugging at the belt, releasing Lestrade's wrists, reaching down with his clean hand to rub long smooth strokes over strained muscles.

He slowly pulled out – the tightness of Lestrade's sphincter over the sensitive tip of his cock almost too much. He patted Lestrade's arse, watching as Lestrade eased out his muscles, dropping to his side, neatly avoiding the wet streaks of semen now striped over the rug. John lay behind him, pressing kisses to his shoulder and neck.

"Was fantastic," he said, softly. "You okay?"

"Mmm," Lestrade smiled blissfully, stretching, arching back against John.

John let him roll onto his back, pressing kisses over his collarbone and finally finding his mouth. Soft lips and scruffy stubble dragged across his skin and he smiled. Lestrade smelt of sun-kissed skin, hot and clean and fragrant.

"Come here," Lestrade dragged John on top of him, pressing them together, chest to toe, just the slightly damp material of John's boxers breaking the press and heat of skin.

They kissed lazily, breathing returning to normal, drowsy and gentle, fingers dragging over sweaty skin, the slight warm breeze ruffling their hair and tracing over their bodies.

"Should clean off," John finally murmured. "I'm starving."

Lestrade smiled, pressed a last kiss to John's lips, then let him go.

 

They returned to the water, shivering and gasping at the cold, splashing each other, wrestling for kisses and gropes and allowing the water to refresh them. Then they dragged themselves back up into the sunshine, spreading out on the blanket. Lestrade handed out the cider and opened the box to reveal salad greens, pasta, and fresh fruit.

 

After they had finished eating, John leant in to feed Lestrade one last strawberry.

"When we get home I might have to throw you on the bed and fuck you again," he said. "While you're still slick."

Lestrade swallowed, eyes wide.

"I think," he started, his voice rough. "I think I might like that plan."

 

Once they had packed up and were back on the bike, Lestrade feeling every bump of the track in his sensitive hole, John started speaking in a low voice, describing exactly what his plans for Lestrade might include. His hands slid over Lestrade's thighs, fingers occasionally brushing over the bulge of his crotch.

It took all of Lestrade's concentration to pilot the bike back to his flat.

 

~Fin


End file.
